


Condescend to Calm

by LydiaArgent



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaArgent/pseuds/LydiaArgent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her fall from the cliff, Carolina gets a visit in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Condescend to Calm

When Carolina opens her eyes, she thinks she might be hallucinating. She can still feel the painful grip of a hand around her neck and everything’s hazy and white, but there’s no freezing, rushing air. Instead, she’s warm and a little dazed, although she still feels some lingering betrayal at the sense of empty space beneath her and, this time, having no way out.

Also, CT’s there. She’s sitting in a plastic chair a careful distance from the bed, with her knees drawn up to her chin. Her face is paler and thinner than Carolina remembers.

“You’re in a hospital,” she says, “and just coming out of sedation.”

Carolina blinks the room into focus, and feels at the IV in her arm.

“I’m not dead.” Carolina says it aloud, past her throat’s burning and spasming, trying to process the fact through her infuriatingly slowed reactions.

“We have that in common.” The corner of CT’s mouth twitches up, and Carolina is suddenly grateful for what she recognizes as some pretty heavy painkillers. They don’t do a lot for the feeling that someone just hit her under the ribcage, but they help make realization that CT is alive and making jokes in poor taste and somehow here, that Carolina miraculously hasn’t destroyed this one thing, easier to deal with.

“I should be more shocked that you managed to pull that off,” Carolina says, her voice hardly understandable by the end, and she coughs twice and closes her eyes hard for a moment. When she opens them, it’s the first time in months that Carolina has seen CT anything but angry and guarded.

“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” She sounds almost distracted, and uncurls from the chair to lean in closer. Carolina can see the edge of bandages where her shirt’s ridden up. CT’s voice is warm and intense, words coming quickly like she’s worried she won’t get another chance to say this. “Carolina. I’m so glad you made it out okay.”

Carolina opens her mouth again, but CT cuts her off. “Don’t, it actually hurts to listen to you try to talk. Here,” she stands up and reaches for a damp plastic bag on the floor. “I thought this might help.”

Carolina stares as one pint of rainbow sherbert, one of bubblegum ice cream, a spoon, and a datapad appear.

“I thought you might have a lot of questions,” CT says, and Carolina tries to give her a look that communicates how big of an understatement that is. “Pretty much all the data I have is on there,” she gestures at the datapad, “and I’ll come back soon. If that’s okay.”

Carolina levels a look at her, long-simmering helpless rage at CT for betraying her team fighting with this new gratitude that threatens to drown her. It’s the absurd incongruity of her favorite ice cream in her hand after everything she’s lost that makes her hold up the pint and point to it meaningfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Got it.” CT bites down on a smile and backs out of the door. Carolina just manages to fumble the sherbert open when a very confused resident come in to check on her.

*

She gives the hospital a fake name and meets protests of “But we can’t check for neurological damage if you won’t let us do a scan,” with a flat stare that makes the doctor throw up her hands. Now that she’s let herself know even a fraction of what The Director’s done, there’s no way she’s letting anything to do with her neural implants get on file.

Carolina is tired in a way that has nothing to do with the exams and medications, but she sits upright when her door cracks open late the next evening. She hadn’t realized she was completely expecting CT to leave her with the datapad that answered almost all of her questions and raised twice as many more until CT pokes her head into the room and asks, “Can I come in?”

When Carolina nods and waves, she closes the door behind her and drags the plastic chair close to the bed. “You holding up okay?”

Carolina shrugs. “Been through worse,” she rasps out.

“I thought we were here to cut the bullshit,” CT observes, resting her feet on the edge of Carolina’s bed. She shrugs when Carolina glares at her.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Carolina clarifies, and holds out her hand for the ice cream. “Happy?”

“Not particularly.” CT hands over the ice cream and spoon.

The ice cream is perfectly, cloyingly sweet as Carolina lets it melt down her throat. “I read the files.” CT is silent, face very nearly blank while Carolina eats another spoonful. The cold makes it easier to talk, and the time lets her consider the worry behind CT’s eyes, who it might be for. “It’s a lot to take in, and I definitely still have some questions. Staring with how you found me.”

CT slips her feet off the bed. “You didn’t trip anything obvious in the system, but your metabolic panel’s pretty obviously weird if you know what to look for.”

“So someone else could be looking?” Carolina thinks through the hospital blueprints she’d pulled up earlier, planning an escape route, tries to calculate just how much additional damage she’d do by taking out the IV and bolting.

CT runs a hand over her face and says “Probably not. I’ve been here for weeks. Discharged this morning, actually. If anyone were paying attention, coming after me or whatever, they would’ve done it by now. I’ve been monitoring traffic in and out of the hospital for anything suspicious, just to be sure, that’s how I realized you were here. God, I sound so paranoid.” she laughs, and folds over to rest her forehead on the bed. She winces and sits back up slowly, her face an alarming shade of white.

“Tomahawk to the gut’s gotta be a bitch,” Carolina says, not totally without sympathy. “And it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”

“I guess. And it means you got ice cream.” CT shrugs, and hands over the second pint.

“That’s another question. How the hell do you know my favorite ice cream flavors?”

CT stares at her for a minute, and Carolina realizes that there are probably more pressing, pertinent questions she could have thought of. But she’s drained, everything she worked for turned to so much ash and snow in front of her, and this is the thing her mind keeps snagging on. CT, not just coming back, but staying for Carolina. Knowing her from her medical records, smuggling her favorite ice cream into a hospital. For whatever reason, this one thing feels really damn important, and Carolina still has some trust in her own instincts.

“I pay attention?” CT finally says, raising an eyebrow. “Really gross, really sweet, in ridiculous quantities. Go big or go home, right?”

Carolina feels the corner of her mouth pull up. “That’s the idea.”

*

Carolina is sitting up and waiting for CT the next evening, and had dialed down her painkillers earlier in the day. The pain is way easier to deal with than the feeling of a permanent haze behind her eyes. She eyes the grocery bag in CT’s hand and the slim cardboard box under her arm with equal interest.

“I don’t know why they even make candy-flavored ice cream. It’s blue and alarming.” CT pulls out one of the pints of ice cream and squints at it.

“Hand it over.” Carolina waves her hand, and CT passes her the container. Carolina pushes herself farther up the bed to get a closer look at what CT’s carrying. “What’s with the box?”

“It’s just some old board game I found in one of the rec rooms.” Carolina raises her eyebrows. “Thought you might be bored out of your mind,” CT explains, sliding the box onto the tray attached to Carolina’s bed. “Maybe wanted to play a round?”

It’s been a long time since Carolina played a board game, but she has distinct memories of other kids crying in elementary school. “What’s the game?”

CT sits on the edge of the mattress, swinging the tray around to settle between them. “You use resources to build roads and cities, and whoever builds the most things wins.”

Carolina’s glad she kicked the pain meds early when she feels some echo of her normal focus coming to bear on the board unfolding in front of her. “Let’s do it.”

It’s familiar, at least, when little else is anymore: the goal, the concrete objective, and the course of action in front of her. She grins smugly when she lays down three cards, placing a new town at an intersection, and CT rolls her eyes, and this feel so much better than anything from the last few months. It’s not jumping out of a plane, doesn’t give her the adrenaline rush of risking her skin. But she’s got a few more things she needs to tell CT, and that’s going to feel pretty close.

“I understand why you left. I even understand why you didn’t tell anyone.” She watches CT’s throat as she swallows hard. “I definitely get why you didn’t tell me.”

CT runs a hand through her hair where it’s growing out from her undercut, tries to tuck it back behind her ear. “It was never supposed to go like this.”

“How was it supposed to go?” Carolina asks, a wry smile twisting her lips. “The bad guys get arrested, the soldiers who were just following orders get to go about the rest of their life?”

“Something like that,” CT sighs, hands falling into her lap. The only thing stopping Carolina from taking one of them in her own is the IV tethering her arm.

“Sounds nice,” Carolina says. CT looks at her suspiciously. “Hey, I’m being serious. You did the best you could in a shitty situation.”

CT’s face shifts, not to anything less suspicious, but a little more concerned. “Nothing was right about any of it from the get-go. We all did the best we could.” Carolina nods seriously, then CT slaps her leg, and Carolina glares reproachfully. “I mean it. A lot of people got hurt, but you did the best you knew how. You did what you could, and that’s all anyone can ever do.”

Carolina decides it’s a good moment to take a huge bite of ice cream; maybe the cold will stop the weird burning on her ears and behind her eyebrows. CT looks back down at the board, slips a few cards from her hand, and places a small wooden building at an intersection.

“What are you thinking of doing?” Carolina asks.

CT squints and looks down. “Eating ice cream and playing an old board game?” Carolina rolls her eyes, and CT clarifies, “You mean after all this?” She sighs and rolls her head on her shoulders when Carolina nods. “I hadn’t really gotten that far. In the event of my death, or, you know, whatever, very incriminating reports should have been automatically sent out to a few hopefully not-terrible government agencies, and some reporters I think will do good work with it. The Director will get some of what he’s due,” she says, and Carolina shakes her head.

“Nothing they’ll do could be enough.” Her voice even feels tight, the pain in her bones working its way out. “They can’t make it right.”

“Probably not,” CT admits. She shrugs at Carolina, sad, resigned, and rolls the dice. “Could anything?”

Carolina stares at the board, considering her options while CT plays out her turn. She’s never backed down from a challenge in her life, and she damn well isn’t about to start now. But when CT asks, “What are you thinking about doing?”, it feels to Carolina like a totally different kind of test, where defiance isn’t surrender, and the only way to win is to change the damn rules herself.

“Improvise, I guess.” They’re sitting closer than is totally necessary even for the tiny bed, and Carolina’s legs are pressed warmly against CT’s. “Figure out something new.”

*

When CT comes back the next evening, Carolina’s dressed in street clothes and checking the medications in her bag. She leans in the doorway and crosses her arms, mouth turned up in a slight smile.

“I’m going to remind you this one time that you got thrown off a cliff a week ago.”

“All better,” Carolina says, and slings the bag over the crook of her arm. “Let’s go.”

“Where to?” CT pushes off the frame, and falls into step next to Carolina.

She glances down at the familiar bag in CT’s hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

*

“Fucking, ow, fuck, fuck, what the hell,” Carolina says evenly, the words echoing weirdly around her head.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” CT says absently, her voice muffled somewhere above Carolina. “Or the freezer. The freezer’s more important right now, actually. There’s gonna be hell tomorrow if we have a beach crowd and lots of melted ice cream.”

“Hey,” Carolina slides out from under the counter, sitting up slowly. “I’m the one who just fixed the damn thing, so I’m objectively more important than the freezer.”

CT hums and raises an eyebrow, and bends closer to her computer screen. Carolina leans her arms on the freezer case and cranes her neck. “Still working on the taxes?”

“All the software is shit.”

“None of the software cheats,” Carolina corrects, and slides over the counter, kicking her legs easily over the register.

“You’re the one who wanted to open an independent small business,” CT says, and Carolina can feel the air quotes around the last few words. “I’m just making sure we don’t go broke.”

Carolina stands next to CT’s chair. She’s got grease up and down her arms, is wearing one of CT’s old tank tops, and her old jeans are a little tight on her hips, so she knows what’s going to happen. It takes a few seconds for CT to look up and the crease between her eyebrows to smooth out, and Carolina smirks down at her.

“I mean,” she says, turning in her chair to bracket Carolina’s legs with her own. “You’re a mechanical genius, and definitely more important than the freezer.”

“Damn right,” Carolina says, and tips CT’s head up for a kiss. But they haven’t drawn the shades for the night, so when CT’s hands go for her belt loops and her tongue runs just behind Carolina’s teeth, she has to pull back.

“Can you finish closing up? I’m going to go upstairs. To take a shower.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” CT calls after her. Carolina laughs, and heads up to their apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet written for the prompt: Things you said I wish you hadn't.

When Carolina gets back from her run, she hears CT talking in the stockroom. “Yeah, sure, today’s fine with us. See you later.”

Carolina sticks her head around the door just in time to see CT end the call on her datapad.

“Only drip sweat on the stuff we give the tourists,” CT says over her shoulder.

Carolina pulls the tie from her ponytail and shakes her head pointedly. “What’s today fine for?”

“A visit,” CT says, and turns to face Carolina. Her expression is mild, like she’d prefer to finish getting the inventory over with, and Carolina is immediately and deeply suspicious.

“And who’s visiting?” She leans against the doorframe, planted feet and broad shoulders ensuring that CT can’t make a run for it.

CT sighs, taking in Carolina’s crossed arms and cocked hip. “South and Niner. They’re planetside, and heard we were around.”

Carolina throws back her head and groans. “Why’d you said it was fine to come by?”

“Because the store will be unlocked, and open for stuff like commerce. And old teammates, I guess.” CT leaves the datapad behind on shelf and presses her palms into Carolina’s hips. “If it’s a problem, I can call back and tell them to fuck off.”

“No, it’s all right.” Carolina ties her hair back tightly, and steps back out of the doorway.

CT rolls her eyes and follows Carolina into the shop. “Don’t bullshit.”

Carolina looks around at the yellow walls, traced over with painted rose vines that CT had stenciled and Carolina had filled in with a fine brush. “It’ll be paint by numbers,” CT had assured her when Carolina had been staring dubiously at the palette on the table. “Just stay in the lines, yeah?” She’d smirked happily at Carolina’s glare. It had turned out pretty well, though.

The shop is nice. During the day, they prop the door open and windows open to let the breeze from the lake through. It carries the smell of ice cream and brings vacationers wandering in, to sit in the cushioned booths (the soft blue fabric chosen by Carolina) or the wicker chairs on the small deck (picked by CT).

“We haven’t repainted the trim yet,” Carolina says. “And I’m pretty sure the freezer’s compressor is still held together by duct tape from the last time you fixed it.”

“Duct tape fixes anything,” CT says.

“That’s not my point.” Carolina huffs out a breath, and runs her thumb over a ding in the counter when someone lost control of a delivery cart.

“And your point is, what, that Niner’s going to give you shit about the trim?” Carolina’s lips tighten. CT pulls her hand from the counter, laces her fingers through Carolina’s. “Hey, if they don’t love it, they’re assholes.”

“We already know they’re assholes. That’s why they’re our friends.” Carolina feels some of the unexpected tension drain from her shoulders when CT snorts and squeezes her hand.

“Point. Go shower and put out the deck stuff?” CT lets go over Carolina’s hand. She trails her fingers briefly over Carolina’s hip before heading to the back room.

“What, you don’t like me sweaty?” Carolina calls after her, and the answering wolf-whistle makes her laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from notjustsharksfanart for an ice cream shop AU. Oodles thanks to [stopfrickinteam-killing](http://stopfrickinteam-killing.tumblr.com/) for the read-through, and to [eponymous-rose](http://eponymous-rose.tumblr.com/) and [thought-](http://thought-.tumblr.com/) for brainstorming Carolina’s ice cream habits with me :D.
> 
> The theme song and title origin for this fic is A Beginning Song by The Decemberists.


End file.
